Lest some poor, helpless, sex-deprived male
Be roused, she wears long robes and veil;
The sway of her breast
Hints at what may be guessed
Of her body within, soft and pale.
Tag: limerick
The birds and the bees: Lesson 1
What on earth was Dad doing to Mummy?
He squashed her, he bounced on her tummy.
She moaned. Did it hurt?
Something started to squirt,
And she licked it… it did look quite yummy!
The money where her mouth is
As she rubbed, he got harder and bigger.
Encouraged, she rubbed with more vigour,
With plenty of spit,
Sucked and nibbled a bit,
Till he groaned… Splatter! Gag! Well go figure!
You Tarzan, me Jane
A bit sluttish, but terribly cute,
She said “Hello, I’m Jane. Want a root?
Like the man says, just do it!
There isn’t much to it;
Just get out your cock, point and shoot!”
Inflamed desire
Fumbling, rash, in his haste to unfasten
Her pantaloons, sadly, the parson,
Whose candle that night
Set her pussy alight,
To the charge of rape thus added arson.
Sore and sorry
He was handsome, his gaze was hypnotic,
His movements, his words so erotic,
She gave in, of course,
Later on, with remorse,
Taking doses of antibiotic.
The lothario
Smoking jacketed, red satin slippered,
Silk trousers already unzippered,
He mixed her a drink,
Which was, later she’d think,
Like his lovemaking, bloody insipid!
Green fingers
What on earth must his friends, if he’s got any,
Think of his passion for botany?
What does he do?
Does he drink? Does he screw,
Or just wank, to relieve the monotony?
Fait accompli
Though of course she’d have rather preferred
That the sexual act which occurred
Were not rape in effect,
Since she didn’t object,
To complain would seem slightly absurd.
Making hay while the sun shines
Just a roll in the hay, a quick tumble;
Some rub and tug, wild grope and fumble,
Bare buttocks and thighs;
No false promises, lies;
A good root though… A girl shouldn’t grumble!